


"Corn Smut" by Tina Cohen-Chang

by AmyViolet



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Dreams, F/M, Fic within a Fic, M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyViolet/pseuds/AmyViolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tina and Sebastian are trapped in a weird, retro kitchen. To pass the time, Tina makes up a story of Blam smut. Sebastian thinks the story would be better as Seblaine smut. </p>
<p>From a GKM prompt: "Okay, this prompt came to me in a dream. Given that fact, it's not really bizarre at all.</p>
<p>"Tina and Sebastian are alone together in my childhood kitchen (though you could omit that particular detail) and to entertain them, Tina starts making up and telling a story of Blam smut. I have no idea what the details of her story are, so you could make it anything you want. The only detail I do know is that Sebastian keeps interrupting to insert himself in the story, pairing himself with Blaine. By the end of the telling of the story Tina and Sebastian are both incredibly turned on and have sex there in the kitchen (or wherever)."</p>
<p>I used my own childhood kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Corn Smut" by Tina Cohen-Chang

**Author's Note:**

> Filling another GKM prompt no one else has any interest in (probably for good reason)...

Sebastian was kind of cute when he slept. Tina had been awake and watching him long enough to ascertain that. That was about all she’d been able to ascertain—that and the fact that they were in some weird, retro kitchen. How they’d gotten here she had no idea. She could see out, to a corn field outside the window, and to a living room through the open doorway, but she couldn’t reach either. The window wouldn’t open, and the door to the living room…although the kitchen was small and didn’t ever actually seem to get bigger, whenever she walked toward the doorway it retreated from her, the living room constantly out of reach.

She’d checked out the fridge and freezer and all the cupboards and drawers and, not finding anything very interesting in any of them, had been watching Sebastian for a solid half-hour at least. He was stretched out on the longer of the two yellow vinyl-covered benches at the kitchen table—Tina had woken up on the shorter of the two—his arms and feet hanging over the edges.

Now he groaned and rolled over, bumping his head on the table. “Fuck!” he muttered. He opened his eyes, and Tina saw confusion and then panic flash through them. “Where the fuck am I? How much did I drink last night?” Only then did he actually look at Tina. “Aren’t you the Asian chick from New Directions?”

Tina sighed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the black chick.”

“Or the Asian dude,” Sebastian added, holding his head. “Wait, I heard about you! Did you drug and vaporape me?”

“Oh my god! No! I’ve never raped _anyone_ , including you! I have as much idea how we got here as you do.”

“Uh-huh. You just better get a good lawyer. Have I mentioned before that my father is a state’s attorney? I’m just going to get some pictures of the crime scene…” He patted the pockets of his Dalton blazer, then his pants.

“Is your cellphone missing?” Tina asked. “Mine was when I woke up.”

“It is missing, as you very well know because you obviously took it.” He stood up and made a dash for the landline. “Good thing you couldn’t get rid of this!” It was true, Tina couldn’t have gotten rid of the landline, or not easily anyway: it was actually mounted to the wall. Sebastian picked up the receiver and remarked, “Wow, rotary. I don’t think I’ve ever actually used one of these.” He put the receiver to his ear and said, “Shouldn’t there be a dial tone?”

“If it worked,” Tina said. Like if the phone worked she wouldn’t have already called for help!

But Sebastian tried dialing 911 anyway. Obviously it didn’t do any good. Next he tried leaving via the doorway to the living room, which was fascinating. From Tina’s perspective when she’d tried it, it looked like the doorway was moving. But now, from the perspective of an observer, it looked like the doorway was stationary and Sebastian was walking in place. He walked in place for a really long time, too—at least twice as long as Tina had tried before giving up. He tried the window _way_ longer than Tina had. Tina had given the window only a normal effort, given that they were on the second floor and she wasn’t especially keen on the idea of jumping out. Sebastian, on the other hand, tried and tried and tried to open it, and, failing that, tried and tried and tried to break it. Finally he turned to her, full of fury. “How are you doing this? Let me go or I’ll…”

“Tell your daddy to prosecute me?” Tina guessed.

“ _Yes_.”

“Go ahead. If you can figure out a way to contact him, that would be great. I’d like to get out of here too.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Like you don’t know how to end this any time you want.”

“You really think I’m doing this? How, exactly? With a mystical Oriental potion of some kind?”

Sebastian hesitated half a beat before answering, “Maybe.”

“That’s so racist.”

“Hey, you’re the one who used the word _Oriental_. I would have said _Asian_.”

“The word choice isn’t the racist part.”

Sebastian took off his blazer and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. “Where did you even find a kitchen so violently _yellow_?” he asked, loosening his tie. He touched the yellow-and-white patterned wall. “And with so much _vinyl_? Even this wallpaper is fucking vinyl.”

“I keep trying to tell you: I didn’t do any of this.”

“Then how are you so fucking calm about it?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a dream. I haven’t been able to wake myself up yet, so the only thing to do is ride it out.”

“Ride it out?”

“I mean, it’s not even a scary dream, really, just slightly weird. Once you realize no one’s actually trying to _rape_ anyone.”

Sebastian glanced around the room warily. “I have definitely had dreams a lot scarier than this.”

“Exactly,” Tina said. She didn’t bother to point out that _she_ was the one dreaming. Obviously the Sebastian she was dreaming about would only argue that _he_ was the one dreaming and _she_ was a figment of _his_ imagination. That argument would get boring pretty quickly. Speaking of which… “If anything, it’s in danger of being a _boring_ dream.”

“I don’t have boring dreams.”

“Really? You don’t have dreams that are just about, like…picking out a bra to wear or something? And you look in your drawer and you’re trying to decide between the black one and the blue one and then all of a sudden there’s a lacy purple one that you don’t remember buying or ever having seen before, but it’s super cute and you put it on, and that’s the whole dream?” This was an actual dream Tina had a couple nights ago. Boring, right?

“Um, no. I don’t cross-dress in my dreams. If I did I would have to classify the dream as a nightmare.”

But Tina knew _she_ was the one dreaming right now, and she kind of thought Sebastian in a cute, lacy purple bra and matching panties would be hot. She willed his clothes to disappear, revealing the lingerie underneath.

It didn’t work. Apparently she wasn’t that great at controlling her dreams. Not _that_ great, but not completely helpless either. “I have an idea to keep this from getting too boring. Why don’t you sit down on that bench there…” She stared at Sebastian, but he didn’t sit. “I said sit down on that bench that says ‘Group W’!”

“Group W?” Sebastian looked at both benches; neither was labeled in any way.

Tina stared at the shorter bench, but the phrase “Group W” failed to appear there, damn it. She sighed, pulled a Sharpie out of the junk drawer, and wrote “Group W” on the seat. “Now sit!” she ordered, and, remarkably, Sebastian did it. “Thank you. Now I will tell us a story to pass the time.”

Sebastian groaned loudly, and he dramatically slammed his head back against the wall. He didn’t get up, however, and he didn’t try to stop her from talking, so she continued. “Once upon a time there was a boy named…Blake. Blake had beautiful curly black hair and gorgeous amber eyes that were accentuated by unusual but striking triangular eyebrows. And he had the perkiest, roundest, most adorable little butt you’ve ever seen, like you just wanna grab a cheek in each hand and squeeze and squeeze and—“

“ _Blake_ , huh? Just say _Blaine_. I totally know that’s who you mean, and it’ll be easier that way.”

“In the story his name is Blake. I’m not going to tell a sex story about my friend; that would be creepy, even if this is just a dream.”

“Please tell me this isn’t going to be a sex story about a gay guy named Blake who is oblivious to the charms of all women _except_ his friend, a cute and smart and funny but misunderstood Asian girl named Chrissie.”

“I assume you mean me since you specified Asian. This story doesn’t have a Mary Sue, and even if it did, why would I call myself Chrissie?”

“Isn’t Tina short for Christina?”

“No, it’s just Tina.”

“Oh. So what are you going to call yourself in the story?”

“I told you: I’m not in it. Now shut up.” Tina cleared her throat and prepared to start over. “Oh, I forgot to mention that the title of this story is ‘Corn Smut.’”

“’Corn Smut,’” Sebastian repeated.

“Yes.”

“Inspired by the view out the window, I take it.”

“Yes. ‘Corn Smut’ by Tina Cohen-Chang. Once upon a time there was a boy named Blake, who…well, you remember that part. Blake and his boyfriend were out on a date—“

“Boyfriend, huh? Okay, this story has potential. His boyfriend was a tall, rich, and dashing young playboy named Sleblastian Slythe—“

“Playboys don’t have boyfriends. Blake’s boyfriend wasn’t Sleblastian, it was…Cam.”

“Cam? No, I don’t think…describe this Cam. What does he look like?”

“Tall; _not_ rich, but Blake doesn’t care at all because he’s not superficial; great abs; blond; big, soft lips—“

“Oh, the dumb jock who helped him steal back your pathetic little trophy!”

“Sam is not dumb, and anyway this is _Cam_. He’s a totally original character.”

“Sure, whatever. This ‘Cam’ sounds hot, so I’ll allow you to continue.”

“Thank you. Blake and Cam were out on a date. They’d just finished geeking out together at the latest Marvel movie—“

“Lame!” Sebastian coughed.

Tina ignored the interruption and continued, “...and they stopped into a cute little Mexican restaurant for dinner. There was something on the menu called huitlacoche. Blake knew he had heard the word before, but he couldn’t remember where or what it meant. He asked the waiter about it, but the waiter didn’t speak much English—“

“Racist!”

“…and all he could tell them was that it was ‘very good.’ So they ordered it, and some Patrón shots, and after the waiter was gone Blake googled huitlacoche and he was like, ‘Oh my god, Cam, huitlacoche is also called _corn smut_!’”

Sebastian groaned. “There better be some _actual_ smut in this story.”

“And Cam was like, ‘What!?’ And Blake read him the Wikipedia article about how it’s a fungus that grows on corn, but it’s edible like mushrooms and it’s, like, a delicacy in Mexican cuisine. And Cam was like, ‘There’s no way I’m eating something called _corn smut_ ,’ and Blake was like, ‘Come on, you eat mushrooms, right?’ and Cam was like, ‘Not anymore, now that I know they’re a fungus!’ But Blake was very persuasive, plus he plied Cam with a few more shots of tequila, and by the time the huitlacoche arrived Cam agreed to try it, and he even admitted he liked it.”

“The end,” Sebastian said. “Well, that was a truly inspiring story about cultural diversity and not being afraid to try new things. Now if you don’t mind—“

“Shut up, that’s not the end. So they’re walking home after dinner because they’ve had too much tequila to drive, and they walk past this corn field—“

“Wait, wait, wait! They just happen to walk past a _corn field_? Where the hell do they live that a _corn field_ is between their house and a Mexican restaurant?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re going to college in a small town in Iowa or something.”

“There is no way you can convince me that Blaine would attend some cow college in Iowa.”

“Well, _Blake_ is attending a cow college in Iowa because _reasons_. And the corn field isn’t actually between their dorm and the Mexican restaurant; they’re actually lost because they’re drunk and it’s the first week of school and they don’t know the town very well and they headed the wrong way when they left the restaurant and didn’t realize it until they were outside of town and there was this corn field! And Blake was like, ‘Oh no, Cam, we must have gone the wrong way, let’s turn around!’ But Cam just started laughing and said, ‘No, dude, we need to find some more huitlacoche!’ Blake didn’t think that was a very good idea, because it was dark and they were drunk, but Cam was already running into the field and so of course Blake ran in after him because he didn’t want Cam to trip and get hurt or anything and be stuck there all alone. ‘Cam,’ Blake said when he’d caught up to him, ‘we don’t even know what huitlacoche looks like before it’s harvested and cooked and everything.’ And Cam says, ‘That’s okay. I didn’t really want to look for that anyway. I thought we could make our own corn smut.’”

“That’s a horrible line,” Sebastian said. “But continue.”

“So Cam tears off Blake’s clothes, and he just throws them any which way, and Blake’s proper little bowtie gets caught in a corn tassel, but he doesn’t even care, he just cares about getting Cam naked too. Lots of times Cam strips for him, like not a strip _tease_ because he actually does get naked obviously, but like a dance, like he used to do when he was a stripper—“

“Wait, the blond hottie was actually a stripper in real life? Or just in your little fantasy here?”

“But there’s no room for strip-dancing here in the corn field, and anyway Cam’s not an especially coordinated dancer when he’s drunk, and so Blake just tears off Cam’s clothes too, and he rips his t-shirt a little bit but Cam doesn’t care about his clothes at all, and especially not when Blake is looking at him like that, and pretty soon they’re both down to just their shoes and socks because a strange, dark cornfield doesn’t seem like the best place to be barefoot.”

“Very sensible,” Sebastian agreed…somewhat mockingly, Tina thought, but she didn’t care.

“They kiss passionately, standing there naked in the corn field, their…” Tina had to remind herself that there was no reason to be shy in her own dream before she could finish the sentence: “…their dicks hard and rubbing against each other. Sam gropes Blaine’s ass and kneads the supple flesh—“

“You mean Cam gropes Blake’s ass.”

“Oh my god, that’s what I said. Shut the fuck up.” Tina couldn’t believe Sebastian would interrupt when it was just getting good. “Cam kneads the flesh of Blake’s ass with his strong fingers, fingers that are rough against Blake’s soft skin, but Blake loves the roughness, he loves everything about Cam touching him.”

“Wait, why are ‘Cam’s’ fingers rough?”

“Because he plays football. And guitar. And, you know, does lots of other ‘man stuff’ with his hands.”

“Well, you could have mentioned that! Since he’s an original character who I supposedly know nothing about.”

“Do I have to slip you some of my Asian silence potion? They’re rough; that’s all that matters. They’re rough and Blake is into it. He can’t get enough of Cam’s fingers on his ass, in fact, and he begs Cam: ‘Put them inside me, baby!’ ‘Are my fingers all of me that you want inside you?’ Cam teases him. ‘I want your cock, Sam. _So bad_.’ ‘I wish I could,” Cam says, ‘but we’re out in the middle of a corn field and we don’t have any lube.’ But Blake says, ‘No, I do! I have some in my pants pocket.’”

“Oh, how convenient!”

“Yeah, isn’t it? So Cam says—“

“No, no, no. I’ll let this go, but not before I point out that very few gay men just happen to carry lube around in their pants pockets at all times.”

“Who said anything about ‘at all times’? They’re on a date, remember? Blake had been planning on getting Cam to stop at the library on the way home, saying he needed a book for some class or something, and then seducing him in a remote part of the stacks.”

Sebastian considered this. “Okay, that’s plausible. It sounds like something Blaine—or Blake or whatever you want to call him—would do, the little minx. I mean, he wouldn’t be able to wear very tight pants, which is a shame considering how amazing his ass looks in tight pants—“

“I know, right!?”

“Uh, right. But I’ll suspend my disbelief on that point and picture him in tight pants anyway. I mean, before Cam ripped them off him.”

“Yeah, he’s even better to picture with no pants at all. Not that I’ve seen him that way in real life. Obviously, since he’s a fictional character.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Well _if_ he were real, then I sadly have never seen him pantsless in real life either. But I imagine he looks pretty good that way.”

Tina paused to imagine Blaine pantsless. She thought he probably had a nice dick, like big and solid without being _monstrously_ huge or anything (monstrously huge dicks kind of creeped her out), but honestly she was most interested in his ass. If she could be either of the characters in “Corn Smut” she would definitely want to be Cam. Not that she was a fan of Freud and his whole “penis envy” bullshit, but if she could have a dick—like just temporarily—and sink it inside Blaine’s round, pert little butt…god, that would be amazing. She cleared her throat. “May I continue?”

“Please.”

“Okay, so…” Tina had to think back to remember what her boys had been doing before Sebastian interrupted. “So Blake had some lube in his pocket, but he had to find his pants. They were on the ground, so he bent over to get them. Cam followed and stood right behind him. Blaine looked so good all bent over like that. He put his hands on his hips—on Blake’s hips—and said, ‘Don’t move. I want to take you just like this,’ and Blaine said, ‘Yeah, please, Sam. I need you so bad.’ Cam got the lube and put some on Blake and, like, stretched him and whatnot—I’m sure you know more about that whole process than I do….”

“I’m a little curious how you know about it at all, but go on.”

“So Sam took his time getting Blaine ready and everything, and it wasn’t because he wasn’t in any hurry to bury his cock inside his boyfriend, but because he loved him so much and he didn’t want to hurt him.” Sebastian rolled his eyes at this but didn’t interrupt. “After a while Blaine was ready, and by then he wasn’t just ready, he was _desperate_ for it. He said, ‘Come on, Sam, I need your cock so bad.’ And Sam needed it so bad too by then, but still he pushed his cock in super slowly—like _suuuper_ slowly—just to make sure he wouldn’t hurt Blaine, until Blaine was nearly in tears, demanding, ‘Faster than that, Sam, harder! Come on, _please_!’ And finally Sam _slammed_ it in, and Blaine cried out, but it was more from relief than anything, definitely not pain. And he kept yelling, ‘More! More!’ and Sam kept pounding into him harder and harder, and Blaine had to hold onto a bunch of corn stalks to keep from falling head-first into the dirt, but it was so worth it because Sam’s cock just kept slamming into his prostrate over and over and over and Blaine cried out, ‘Oh, god, Sammy, I’m about to come so hard!’ and Sam said, ‘Do it, baby, come on my cock’ and Blaine did, he felt his ass muscles clamp down on Sam’s dick and he shot his load all over the…the corn stalks and the dirt and stuff and he yelled, ‘Oh god, oh god, oh god!’ and his vision actually whited out for a second and Sam told him, ‘I’m going to fill you with my come’ just before his dick expanded inside him and released its hot, gooey load inside his ass.”

Tina realized that she was clutching at the hem of her skirt, and her heart rate had sped up toward the climax of the story. Also she felt very wet. She had an almost irresistible urge to hump something…or someone. Maybe…maybe Sebastian wouldn’t mind? She knew he wasn’t real, after all, and this was all _her_ dream, but still, she had spent a not-insignificant portion of this dream insisting that she wasn’t a rapist. (Which she wasn’t!)

“They heard a rustling in the corn. Blake looked up and saw it was his old crush, who he’d never really gotten over: Seblastian Slythe. ‘Slebastian!’ he said. ‘We were just…’ ‘Yeah, I saw,’ Seblastian said. ‘Hey, Cam or whatever your name is, guess who I saw back by the Mexican restaurant? The real Captain America. You’d better run if you want an autograph.’ ‘Oh boy!’ said Cam, and he threw on his pants but not his shirt and took off running to get the autograph of a fictional superhero who he actually thought was real. Blaine stayed behind. ‘That’s not very nice,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t trick my boyfriend like that.’ ‘You shouldn’t be boyfriends with a dimwit who can be tricked like that,’ Sleblastian said. ‘You should be with someone who can make you come more than once.’ ‘Oh, and I suppose that’s you?’ ‘I’ll prove it,’ Seblastian said. And he bent Blaine over again—he had stood up in the meantime—and held him down and he didn’t even need to put more lube on him because Blaine was still slick with his so-called boyfriend’s inferior spunk, and he fucked him all night, slamming into his prostate over and over and over and making him come again and again and again, and Sebastian came a bunch of times too, but without going soft or having to stop for even a second because his dick was magic like that, and he filled Blaine’s round, perky butt with so much hot jizz that Blaine’s ass couldn’t contain it all, it was flying out everywhere, splashing back onto Sleblastian and all the corn stalks, and eventually the whole field flooded and Blaine and Sebastian floated away in happy, contented bliss. The end.”

Tina now felt a lot less like humping someone. That is, she still felt like it, but a lot less than she did before. “Okay, first of all that’s mean. Sam isn’t that stupid, and he and Blaine make an adorable couple.”

“But they’re _not_ a couple. Wait…are they?”

“Not officially. It’s just so _obvious_ that they love each other.”

“Isn’t Sam straight?”

“Supposedly. I mean, maybe he doesn’t even realize yet that he’s in love with Blaine, but—“

“So he’s oblivious to the charms of all men _except_ his friend, the cute, smart, and funny ‘Blake’?”

“Something like that,” Tina admitted. “Or maybe he _does_ like guys in general but he’s just in the closet because…” Tina didn’t actually know what reason Sam would have to be in the closet, though. Maybe because of his religious upbringing? Though that didn’t stop him from living with one gay guy (until Kurt went to NYADA) and being best friends with another.

“And why are you so invested in them being a couple anyway? I mean, what’s in it for you in your little fantasy scenario? I could understand if there were a Chrissie, but…”

“What’s so hard to understand? It’s like straight men watching lesbian porn. They’re both hot!”

“Okay, well…” Sebastian unfastened the top button of his shirt and the buttons of his cuffs. “Yeah, I can accept that. But your story…okay, it was hot, I’ll give you that. But it needs work.”

“Well, what do you expect? I made it up off the top of my head!”

“No, you didn’t,” Sebastian said, rolling up his sleeves. “You don’t just _happen_ to know about lube and stretching and the prostate.”

“Just because I’ve read some…stuff…doesn’t mean I had pre-composed this entire story in my head,” Tina pointed out. She might have given some thought to certain elements of the story before. But the whole “corn smut” angle had just occurred to her here, after seeing the corn outside. And having coincidentally learned about huitlacoche a few weeks ago.

“Okay, fine. But parts of it were very unrealistic. I’m telling you this constructively, in case you want to actually write any gay erotica in the future.”

“You’re telling me that _my_ story was unrealistic? Hello, mine didn’t feature a magically never-softening penis that floods an entire corn field with semen.”

“Yeah, I was being over-the-top on purpose. It was a parody of your style.”

“Fuck you,” Tina said. She didn’t feel like humping Sebastian at all any more. She felt like bending him over, holding him down, and hate-fucking him. If only she had that temporary cock! Wait, this _was_ a dream after all. She turned toward the fridge, opened it as if looking for something to eat, and with her back to Sebastian discreetly pressed a palm against her crotch area. Nope. No cock. Damn it!

“Anything good in there?” Sebastian asked.

“Some leftover chili, it looks like. But I’m going to strongly recommend against it, since we can’t get to a bathroom.”

“Ah, yes, that could be a problem. Though I could always use the sink if it has a garbage disposal.”

“Fuck you,” Tina told him again.

Sebastian placed his hand against his chest. “I’m wounded by your vitriol! And since I don’t think that was actually in response to my admittedly crude little joke, I’m guessing I actually hurt your feelings with my criticism of your story.”

Tina sat on the chair closest to the refrigerator and turned it slightly away from Sebastian. Unable to think of any other response, she resorted to “Fuck you” a third time.

“Okay, look. I’m sorry.”

“That’s nice.”

“Hey, don’t just dismiss an apology from Sebastian Smythe. It’s a rare thing.”

“Lucky me.”

“Yeah, lucky you.” Tina knew Sebastian was watching her, waiting for her to say something else, but she didn’t even look at him. “Okay, how’s this?” he tried again. “When I said it was hot I wasn’t just trying to be nice. I mean, you should know that I don’t say things to be nice because I don’t actually value niceness. And look, I’m still hard.”

Tina did look at that. She couldn’t totally tell if he was telling the truth, though. He was sitting behind a table, and even if he weren’t she didn’t think those Dalton uniform pants were especially revealing. Still, she suspected he wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. He wasn’t actually known for going out of his way to be nice.

“So the story was good—it had the potential to be good—but I’m going to give you some pointers so your next one can be better. Okay?”

Tina shrugged. “If you feel you must.”

“Well, we’re still stuck here with nothing better to do.”

Tina sighed and turned toward him. There was no reason to be embarrassed by his criticism, she reminded herself. This was all just a dream. “Sebastian” was really just another part of her subconscious that would—maybe—be able to give her some tips to tell a better story next time. Or maybe write one—she’d been reading these stories long enough; maybe it was time for her to actually try writing one. “Fine.”

“Fine. Good. First tip: if you ever decide to write any of this stuff down and post it on the internet, for god’s sake don’t make it about thinly disguised versions of your actual friends.”

“Duh,” Tina said. “I already knew that.”

“Good. And don’t make it about me, either.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Unless you want to give me a magical dick and pair me with a thinly disguised version of Blaine. I’d be totally cool with that.”

“Tip number two?”

“It’s _prostate_. You said _prostrate_.”

“Oh, shit. Did I? I actually do know the difference.”

“Yeah, so be more careful. It’s a pretty embarrassing mistake.”

Yeah, it was. Except for the fact that the Sebastian lecturing her didn’t actually exist. “Duly noted. Tip three?”

“Tip three…Oh, okay. At the beginning of the smutty part, where you said, ‘They kissed passionately’? Yeah, don’t do that. It doesn’t actually convey anything, and it’s such a cliché that I usually stop reading as soon as I see it. I mean, if I hadn’t been your captive audience here, I—“

“Hold on. It’s such a cliché that you usually stop reading as soon as you see it? That means you read this kind of stuff!”

Sebastian blushed. Tina had actually made Sebastian blush! “So?” he asked, trying to play it off like he thought it was no big deal. His pink cheeks told a different story, though. LOL.

“So I think it’s adorable.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Chicks who write this stuff always think everything is fucking _adorable_. That’s my next tip: banish the word _adorable_. from your vocabulary. If I read a supposedly slash fic that contains the word _adorable_. then I know immediately it was written by a girl.”

“So?” Tina said. “I _am_ a girl. And when I read slash, I don’t care if it was written by a girl because I’m a girl reading it.”

“Well, I care. And here’s another thing you should avoid because it proves you’re a girl: the whole thing about how they’re so in love that Sam would never, ever hurt Blaine in the slightest. Newsflash: anal sex sometimes hurts. Gay guys are into that.”

“Bullshit. If _you’re_ into that, it’s your business. But you can’t tell me that all gay guys like to have their anuses ripped open during sex.”

“Not _ripped open_ , no. But it burns, okay? It burns and it stretches you and you feel like you can’t possibly take any more, but the other guy holds you down and _makes_ you fucking take it, even though you feel like you can’t but then you _do_ , and then it’s so worth it, especially if…they don’t actually manage to find your prostate every time, and it’s pretty rare in real life to come _just_ from that even when they do, but it’s still so amazing, it’s like…like, has a guy ever found your G-spot?”

“Yes,” Tina said, feeling her face grow warm at the memory of Mike finding hers sometimes. Like Sebastian said, it wasn’t every time, but when he did, it was…well, again like he said, amazing.

“Yeah, so. Obviously I don’t have one of those so I can’t be totally sure, but I did fuck this girl once who told me afterwards that I hit hers, and from how she looked when she came, I’m pretty sure they’re really similar.”

“Wait. You’ve been with girls?”

“On occasion. I generally prefer guys, but I don’t like to restrict my options unnecessarily. Let’s stay on topic. The topic was guys liking their erotic fiction to be rougher than girls usually write. You could do that by throwing in a few more gritty details. Like the thing about Sam’s fingers being rough—that was good.”

“Oh!” Tina hadn’t been expecting a compliment, even if it was a minor one. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So throw in some more details like that. Now, before you defend yourself by saying of course you didn’t include a lot of details because you were making this up off the top of your head…” Sebastian held up a hand to forestall the expected defense. “…let me just say I realize that, and what I’m about to say is only a suggestion for how you could _improve_ the story if you wanted to actually flesh it out and write it down sometime.”

“Okay.”

“Not that I’m recommending you actually do that with this story. I mean…the whole thing is built around a totally cheesy…is it even a pun? A double entendre? I don’t know, but it’s pretty weak to carry a whole story.”

“Got it,” Tina said. She should have known better than to expect Sebastian to _keep_ being nice.

“But, I mean, if you wanted to keep the smut part and could think of an actually plausible reason for them to be fucking in a corn field.”

“I _get_ it. The details you’d suggest I throw in?”

“Right. So it’s like, late summer, right? If the corn is high and they’ve just started college?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Not that you have to keep the college thing. But I would keep the late summer thing. Because late summer in the Midwest means it’s hot and it means it’s humid, and they’re surrounded by corn taller than themselves, and it’s trapping all that heat and humidity in, and you know what that means? It means they’re both sweating like motherfuckers.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, ‘Ew,’ she says. Gay men think hot, sweaty sex is anything but _ew_. Just think of the blond jock. His chiseled chest and abs. With sweat rolling down them. Sharing body heat with Blaine—fucking him vigorously in this sweltering corn field—is the _last_ thing that’s going to help him cool off, but he can’t help it. He just wants Blaine so bad.”

Tina considered it. “Yeah, okay. I can see a certain appeal to hot and sweaty. In a fic, if not in real life.” Even in real life she had to admit that Mike did always _look_ pretty good when he was flushed and sweaty after working out…even if she made him shower before actually touching her.

“All right. And you know what else corn is like in late summer? Dry. Dry and brittle and rough.”

“Wait, what do you know about corn? Have you ever even set foot on a farm?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and replied cryptically, “I am large, I contain multitudes.”

Tina wasn’t sure what Sebastian meant by that exactly, but she was pretty sure she recognized the quote. “Walt Whitman?” she guessed.

“Very good. Now stop interrupting. So the leaves, they’re like Sam’s rough fingers, but like a hundred times more so, and they’re rubbing against the naked guys _everywhere_. Like, _maybe_ not their dicks, but their faces, their necks, their arms and backs, their asses. Probably cutting them even. Like they’re both getting these little paper cuts _while_ they’re fucking, and it hurts, like not excruciating or anything, not like _torture_ , but just enough to make everything more intense. And it shows how bad they need to fuck _right now_ that they don’t even care that they’re going to be all scraped up afterwards.”

“Okay,” Tina said, just a little skeptically. She thought this probably was more of a guy thing…or at least more of a Sebastian thing, but she could see the appeal enough to let him keep talking. She found she was clutching at the fabric of her dress again.

“And it all needs to be dirtier. I mean that literally. They’re in a _field_ for fuck’s sake, how are they not covered in literal dirt?”

“Well, I mean…they’re standing.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem too. Blaine’s holding onto some corn stalks while Sam is fucking him, supposedly _slamming into_ him, I think that’s how you put it? Remember, those stalks are dry and brittle. There’s no way they’re going to support him for long.”

“So…what? You want poor Blaine to fall on his face?” Tina noticed they had both long since given up any pretense of referring to the characters as Blake and Cam. Well, no sense letting that bother her _now_.

“It doesn’t have to be on his _face_. How about…okay, starting from the part where they’re fucking, where Blaine is begging Sebastian to fuck him harder and faster—“

“Begging _Sam_ to fuck him harder and faster.”

“I’m telling it my way. You go ahead and picture whoever you want.”

“Fine.” Actually, Tina decided she was fine with it being Sebastian now. She still thought Blam would be way too sweet and, yes, too _adorable_ , for whatever Sebastian had in mind. “Go ahead.”

“’Harder!’ Blaine shouts. ‘Faster!’

“’Well, look who’s a bossy little bottom,’ Sebastian taunts. He slaps Blaine’s ass, leaving visible traces of dust that stick to Blaine’s sweaty skin. ‘Be good or I won’t fuck you at all.’

“’No, come on, Sebastian, _please_! I need you so bad, I need _more_ of you!’

“’But what if I go faster and it hurts you?’

“’I don’t care!’ Blaine insists. It hurts already. Sebastian’s monster cock is already stretching him to his limit and beyond, and it burns, but Blaine craves that burn more than anything. The dry, brittle corn leaves that scratch against his skin every time a thrust from Sebastian pushes him forward…ordinarily he would hate that, would get the hell out of there, but now the scratches on his back and his arms and his ass, even on his face…they’re only making his whole body more sensitive, more needy for Sebastian to just fuck the living daylights out of him. ‘Please, I need as much as you can give!’

“’You asked for it, babe.’ Sebastian grips Blaine’s hips tightly and started to fuck him full force. It’s such a tight fit—Sebastian is huge—but no matter how often or how hard he fucks Blaine, Blaine’s sweet little hole always stays nice and tight. Sebastian knows it has to hurt him, getting fucked like this, but he always takes it like a champ. Always begs for it, in fact.

“Blaine holds onto some corn stalks for balance, but they do little good once Sebastian starts _really_ fucking him. The stalks lean forward a little, and then a little more, and then with one especially powerful thrust forward they snap in half. Blaine falls forward onto his knees and just barely manages to get his hands out in front of him in time to avoid going face-first into the dirt.

“Sebastian drops to his knees right along with Blaine and doesn’t stop fucking him for more than a second or two. He doesn’t even slow his pace to give Blaine a chance to adjust to the new position; if anything, he quickens it.

“Blaine is vaguely aware of the dirt sticking to his sweaty shins and palms and—when he can’t maintain the hands-and-knees position anymore—his forearms. Only vaguely, because mostly he’s aware of the gigantic cock filling him, slamming into his prostate over and over and over again. He’s so close to coming, and he knows he’s going to do it without touching his cock.

“Sebastian tries to hold Blaine’s hips in place, but their skin is too slippery with sweat to get a good grip. Instead he pushes down on Blaine’s back to hold him in place. He can tell how close Blaine is to coming, and the last thing he wants to do is let up now. The air down here so close to the ground is stifling, and there’s something pointy under his knee, but he ignores all that because he just has to keep fucking Blaine, has to give Blaine the best orgasm of his life.

“That orgasm comes very soon, and Blaine’s ass muscles clamp down around Sebastian’s cock as Blaine cries out, ‘Oh god, oh god, oh god!’ Blaine shoots his white hot load onto the ground, where it sits on top of the dirt for a few seconds before soaking in.

“Sebastian’s white hot load soon follows, filling Blaine’s ass to overflowing. Blaine mutters ‘Oh god!’ again, though much less forcefully this time because he’s exhausted, and he collapses onto the come- and sweat-soaked dirt. Sebastian’s grimy, sweaty body collapses on top of Blaine’s, and they just lie there for several blissful minutes until they get their breath back.

“The end.”

Tina was speechless. That wasn’t where she would have gone with the story, but it was…um…yeah, it had affected her. She was feeling definitely wet and humpy again.

“Just so you know,” Sebastian said. “I’m harder now than after your version of the story. No offense.”

“I mean…there is a way to take care of that,” Tina ventured. “Seeing as how you’re not opposed in principle to doing it with a girl.”

“Tina Cohen-Chang, you little slut. You want to ride my monster cock?”

“Maybe. But if it’s actually monstrous I’d rather sit on your face.”

“Fair enough. I may have exaggerated its size a tad, but…well, you decide.” He stood and unfastened his belt, then opened his pants and pushed them down. He was wearing black boxers, possibly silk, though Tina didn’t get a great look because he pushed those down too.

“Oh, thank god,” Tina said. It was big, like bigger than average probably (not that she knew exactly what average was), but nothing she couldn’t handle. She stood up and turned her chair away from the table. “Lose the pants and sit here.”

“That vinyl’s going to be uncomfortable on my bare ass.”

“Boo hoo. You just gave me a huge lecture about how gay guys like it rough and sweaty and don’t mind getting _cut_ during sex, and you’re going to complain about vinyl being _uncomfortable_?”

“You’ve got me there.” He lost the pants and the underwear—and the shoes, because the pants and the underwear came off easier that way—and sat on the yellow vinyl-covered seat.

Tina pulled her dress off over her head and shimmied out of her panties. She thought Sebastian probably wouldn’t care what she did with her bra, but she decided to take it off, realizing as she did so that it was the black one from her boring dream a few nights ago. God, she hoped she wasn’t about to wake up from _this_ dream before it got to the best part.

Not wanting to waste any time, she straddled Sebastian and sat right on his cock. It was too fast and it burned, and she could see what Sebastian meant when he described that sensation as pleasurable.

This chair was far from ideal for riding someone. For one thing, Tina’s legs weren’t that long, and she could only touch the floor with her toes, which didn’t give her a lot of leverage for bouncing up and down. Sebastian thrust up into her as much as he could, but the angle or the height or something about the chair wasn’t great for that either, and they both had to work really hard at it and they got all sweaty, and Tina kind of found that surprisingly hot too.

She was so close, like from the very second he entered her she was on the verge of coming. She just needed….god, if only his dick would nail her G-spot! She couldn’t _quite_ get the angle right, though, or couldn’t _quite_ drop down on him hard enough. “Please, please, please!” she begged, though she knew he was doing everything he could, but she just kept getting tireder and sweatier and she lingered right there on the precipice—it was like that fucking doorway to the living room that she couldn’t quite get through—until finally, _finally_ something clicked and she knew she was going to finally actually make it. She found a reserve of energy she didn’t know she had, enough to grind against Sebastian with renewed vigor, and…

Tina woke up, sweating and gasping and humping a pillow that was somehow between her legs. God _fucking_ damn it!

She vaguely remembered a dream with lots of yellow, maybe from corn (why did she think that?), and Blaine and Sam were fucking—which she never would have even thought of before, but Jesus it was hot in the dream—and that had somehow led to her and Sebastian Smythe (really!?) fucking, and she woke up before she could come, which _always_ seemed to fucking happen to her when she had a sex dream.

Where the hell was her vibrator?


End file.
